Master Dragonknight
by Min Daae
Summary: Aemon/Old Nan; pensioner fluff and oh yeah, silly.


The look in Old Nan's eyes, though Aemon couldn't see it, was one that would be familiar to many an unfortunate young man, unattached by promise, might receive. Generally, however, it was a look seen on ambitious young ladies, rather than ancient matrons.

It was Aemon's misfortune to cough within her hearing, though of course he could hardly help that particular turn of bad luck. It only made her job easier.

As it was, he was only warned by the slight whisper of sound as someone approached him from the side. "Excuse me – you sound ill, I think you had best come with me."

"Ill?" He turned his head in the direction of the voice, frowning. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, I feel quite well-"

"I'm afraid I must insist," said the voice, female, older, and stridently aggressive. "You can take your refreshment with me." And as suddenly as that, he was being guided away from the Lord Commander and their small visiting contingent, and somewhere else, on the arm of an unidentified woman.

"So," she said, in an odd tone of voice that Aemon was at a loss to identify, "Have you come to Winterfell before? I feel sure I would have noticed if you had…" The way she linked her arm familiarly with his combine with her tone helped Aemon realize, to his utter bewilderment, what the mysterious woman was getting at. For what must have been the first time in over seventy years, he was being flirted with.

"I have," he said, hesitantly, trying to think of what would be the best way to handle this, "But a long time ago, likely you wouldn't remember…"

His mysterious companion giggled. _Giggled, _like a girl. And true, it was a little awkward, as though she weren't quite sure she remembered how, but… "You don't think so? Well. How nice of you to say so, Master…"

"Aemon," he said, without thinking.

"Aemon!" She sounded charmed. "Like the Dragonknight? I used to tell young lord Stark stories about him, when he was a boy, they were his favorites, or near enough." Which Lord Stark, Aemon deliberately did not ask. And coughed, delicately.

"Well…yes. Some parents seem to think that giving their child such a name destines them for a life of greatness." Which wasn't precisely true, but he doubted this woman would be able to tell that. "And your name, my lady?"

"My lady? Oh, goodness. Just Nan, Master Aemon. No grand titles for me." She chuckled. "I've been around long enough to know better than that." She steered him through a door, which he stooped through just to be sure, and paused. "Well, here's a nice cozy place for us. Sit down," She lowered him into a chair, "I'll put some tea on, how are things at the Wall? The Night's Watch isn't what it used to be, to be sure…southerners forget their tales, that's what it is, I say."

Aemon sat awkwardly, hands in his lap, and wished, not for the first time, that he could see. All he could do instead was listen, and here he could hear water being put in a kettle, the crackle of flames, the clank as the kettle was set above them. "I would not speak of such grim things," he said, stiffly.

"Oh, pish," said Nan dismissively, "As though I don't know all the stories, of dead things walking, and darker things you'd probably shiver to think of. 'Grim things', bah!"

"Your pardon, mistress," Aemon said, uncomfortable again. "I meant no disrespect." What could she possibly want with him?

A moment later, however, she bustled over with a cup of tea and set it down. "There you go, now, Master Dragonknight, and give me the news. I've seen my fair share of Night's Watch boys come and go."

Aemon was immensely grateful that he no longer found himself able to blush. "You flatter me, mistress. I would hardly say I am a 'boy' any longer."

She giggled, again. There was less of a strained note to it this time. She was definitely getting better. "You look like a boy to me, Master Dragonknight, and quite the boy, too. Drink your tea."

Aemon had a sip of tea, obediently, before realizing that he was obeying this odd woman's orders. That thought was vaguely uncomfortable. "I have seen many years of my own," he started to say, but was interrupted.

"So a boy well seasoned, but a boy nonetheless," she said, firmly, "And unable to take a compliment like one, it seems. How long will you be in Winterfell, Master Dragonknight?"

After several moments, he realized that her tone was probably trying to be playful. After a longer pause, he made an attempt to reply. "Only a few days, we musn't-"

"Such a short time!" Nan exclaimed, dismayed. "Why, how dreadful. Tell me of yourself, then, Master Dragonknight, what great adventures must a man of your experience have seen?"

Aemon would have stared blankly at her, if he still had use of his eyes. As it was, he just stared blankly at nothing. "…your pardon?"

Thankfully, he was relieved by the arrival of others, the door creaking open. "Old Nan," said a deep voice, almost scolding, "I thought this might have been you, when the Lord Commander came to me complaining that his maester was missing…I think you'll have to hand him over."

Aemon let out a breath of relief that he was glad was missed, as Nan huffed, not seeming terribly bothered at all. "Well now. And we were having such a nice tea. But if you must, Lord Stark…take your tea, Master Dragonknight," she shoved it into his hands and he was startled none spilled, "And do come back and visit before you leave, or I may have to come looking." He could almost hear her trying to flutter her eyelashes.

"By all means," he managed, faintly, and did his best to hurry out, grateful once again that he didn't blush as the current Lord Stark – Rickard, perhaps – leaned over and murmured, "Master Dragonknight?"

"I don't know what she was talking about," Aemon said stiffly, and could feel his ears going just a little pink.


End file.
